


drink me under, pull me in

by andthwip



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Eventual Smut, F/F, Hangover, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, M/M, Masturbation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Jaskier | Dandelion, Porn Watching, Spanking, Wild Hunt, roach is a dog, set in England
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:14:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23311459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andthwip/pseuds/andthwip
Summary: “Catcalling is gross,” Jaskier says, lifting his head and scrunching up his nose. “I don’t want to be heckled while I sing.”She waves her hand dismissively. “I know, I know.”“I’ll find someone…” Jaskier mutters, taking a large gulp of his pint. “Eventually.”“Plenty more fish in the sea, yadda yadda,” Yennefer mutters. “You need to get laid. How long has it been?”Jaskier doesn’t dignify her with a response, instead downing the rest of his pint and holding it up, asking if she’d like another drink. Yennefer rolls her eyes but nods anyway, turning her attention to her beeping phone.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Istredd/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 16
Kudos: 92





	1. whiskey princess, drink me under, pull me in...

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Jas x Geralt fic so please bare with me. It's a little slow in the beginning but I promise it'll pick up pretty soon. ;)

Jaskier drops his head into his hands, trying his damnedest to blank out everything Yennefer is saying. 

He’s just finished playing on stage and the dirty old pub’s lulling into comfortably full instead of packed wall to wall. The only music now is coming from the old junky jukebox. Unfortunately it’s not too loud and they can hear each other over the music. 

And Yennefer is  _ still _ speaking, yammering on and on about the really hot guy who was checking Jaskier out while he was performing. 

“He looked like he was ready to catcall you, Jas,” she says excitedly, taking a sip from the straw in front of her. “Honestly, I don’t know how you didn’t see him, darling.”

“Catcalling is gross,” Jaskier says, lifting his head and scrunching up his nose. “I don’t want to be heckled while I sing.”

She waves her hand dismissively. “I know, I know.”

“I’ll find someone…” Jaskier mutters, taking a large gulp of his pint. “Eventually.”

“Plenty more fish in the sea, yadda yadda,” Yennefer mutters. “You need to get  _ laid _ . How long has it been?”

Jaskier doesn’t dignify her with a response, instead downing the rest of his pint and holding it up, asking if she’d like another drink. Yennefer rolls her eyes but nods anyway, turning her attention to her beeping phone. 

He wanders to the bar, empty glasses in hand. Placing them on the bar, Jaskier waits for the barmaid, Marilka to take his order. 

Eventually, she catches him and smiles gently. Jaskier smiles back and asks for the same again, pointing to the two glasses. She nods, grabbing a fresh pint glass and a tumbler for Yennefer’s gin. 

Marilka compliments his performance. Jaskier feels the faint hint of a blush spread over his cheeks as he awkwardly thanks her.

“I play in a few different pubs across the city but this one is probably one of my favourites,” Jaskier explains.

“Why’s that?” Marilka asks, looking up from pouring his pint and fluttering her long eyelashes at him. 

Jaskier swallows thickly before pointing to the ceiling. “Acoustics. They - they’re  _ great _ .” 

Marilka giggles. “Of course you’d notice that, Songbird.”

“Part of the job.” Jaskier shrugs, shuffling from foot to foot.

“Notice anything else?” Marilka pushes sweetly, twirling to press the rim of the tumbler to the gin optic. 

“I - I– uh…” Jaskier tries before clearing his throat. She nods looking hopeful. “I’m gay. Strictly into guys. I’m - I’m sorry?”

“Oh…” she says softly, face falling. “No - No, god, don’t apologise. I’m sorry for coming on so strong…”

There’s a blush painting her pale cheeks and Jaskier almost feels a little sorry for her. She places his drinks in front of him and he hands over a ten pound note and tells her no hard feelings. 

Marilka shoves his change into his hand and busies herself cleaning the other end of the bar. Jaskier slinks back to Yennefer, clutching the glasses a little too tightly. He slips back into the booth and Yennefer bursts into a fit of laughter, covering her face with her hands. 

“Shut up,” Jaskier mutters, taking a large gulp of his beer.

“She likes you!” Yennefer squeals. “The gayest gay in all the land!”

“Yen, I swear to the gods,” Jaskier sighs. “Stop it, please.”

“Okay - Okay, I’ll stop.” She sighs, wiping under her eyes with a thumb. “Want me to kick your arse at pool?”

Jaskier nods. “Yeah, loser buys the tequila.”

“You’re on, baby face,” Yennefer smirks. 

Yennefer decides very early on that they  _ must _ make the game interesting, so she makes a rule. A shot of tequila if they manage to hit the white ball and nothing else and two shots if they miss both completely. Jaskier reluctantly agrees; he’s pretty bad at pool and Yennefer always wins. 

Quite quickly into the game, Jaskier realises that he’s  _ fucked _ . Yen must have been practising with Istredd; she’s potted every ball her cue’s touched and Jaskier notices he’s beginning to sweat. 

This is  _ not _ going in his favour. 

The reminder of the last tequila hangover washes over him, along with a tidal wave of nausea. So, he shakes his shoulders and steels himself, leaning over the table and lining up what should be a very easy shot to make.

His hands are slippery with sweat and Jaskier misses the shot and both balls.

That’s two shots. 

Yennefer cackles, setting her cue on the table and swaggering to the bar. Marilka’s even laughing a little. She’s seen them in plenty of states, so she should be used to their antics. 

Jaskier gulps as the two shot glasses are put in front of him. Yennefer slams the salt shaker down too, and drops two thick wedges of lemon wrapper in a napkin in front of him. 

She motions for him to start, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the pool table. 

“My hatred for you knows no bounds,” Jaskier mumbles, tipping the salt shaker onto the back of his hand. 

“Get on with it, you big pair of knickers,” she scolds.

He can tell she’s focused on getting him drunk off his arse. The way she’s watching and analysing his every move like a shark. 

The glint in her eye is almost making him  _ more  _ panicked for their game. 

Jaskier rolls his eyes, lifting his hand to his mouth, licking the salt quickly and picking up the little shot glass and tipping it in one. He holds the liquid in his mouth, trying his hardest not to spit it out. 

He gulps it down, scrunching his face as it burns the whole way down his throat. Yennefer hands him a wedge of lemon and he stuffs it into his mouth, biting into it as hard as he can. The juice neutralises the bitterness almost straight away and Jaskier relaxes as he takes the wedge out of his mouth. 

Yennefer is biting the inside of her cheek, trying her best not to laugh at him. Jaskier tries not to give her any attention as he repeats the process again, this time slamming the shot glass back onto the counter and swallowing it quickly, keeping his face as neutral as possible as he bites into the other wedge of lemon. 

When he’s finished, he finally glances at Yennefer and she grins and claps her hands at him. Her attention is quickly drawn away when her phone beeps from the edge of the table, face dropping as she reads the text.

“Istredd has cancelled.  _ Again _ ,” Yennefer huffs out. “Just us two now.”

“Sorry, Yen,” Jaskier says sadly, leaning his hip against the pool table. “Another drink? Maybe a little somethin’, somethin’?”

After another two hours, Jaskier and Yennefer are  _ drunk  _ as fuck in their booth. 

Yennefer is leaning her head against his shoulder, sipping from a glass of gin. They’re giggling and Jaskier can’t remember for the life of him why, there’s a fuzzy warmness spreading through his veins and he feels  _ nice _ . Jaskier runs a hand through his hair and then drops it to brush a few stray strands from Yennefer’s face, making her smile. 

“Jas - Jas… I need one of two things…” Yennefer starts with a hiccup.

“Wha’s that?” Jaskier asks, slurred.

“I need a kebab or a tactical vom.” She groans. “Maybe both.”

“A kebab sounds good,” Jaskier says offhandedly, contemplating the sauce choices. “M’not holdin’ your hair back.”

She punches him lightly in response. “Finish your drink, I want food.”

Jaskier, despite his better judgement, downs the rest of his vodka and makes a face at the taste. Yennefer might not be the only one who needs a tactical vomit after this. 

They say goodnight to Marilka, tipping her their change and stumbling out of the pub, Yennefer’s high heels clacking angrily against the pavement. 

The kebab shop isn’t too far from the pub but the walk feels like it takes a  _ lifetime _ and Jaskier reckons maybe it does, because he and Yennefer can’t walk in a straight line. 


	2. i'm sick of sleeping alone..

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shit. 
> 
> She’s never going to let him live this down ever.
> 
> Jaskier must have told her about his second sexual awakening during the first Star Trek remake too.
> 
> He drops his head into his hands, leaning his elbows against the countertop. He ruffles his hair, trying to figure out a way to make this look like a joke. 
> 
> Another ping of a text.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 2 is here! i hope you like it.

Jaskier opens his eyes. The sun blinds him and his head pounds. He groans, rolling over onto his stomach and shoving his face deep into the pillow.

The sour smell of stale alcohol on him and hanging in the room makes Jaskier’s stomach roll, a tidal wave of nausea flushing over him. He clamps his eyes shut and breathes deeply, waiting for it to pass. 

And it does, eventually. 

When Jaskier feels brave enough, he fishes his phone from under the pillow and pulls the duvet over his head. His eyes bulge as he reads the time – 11:22am. He’s slept  _ a lot _ longer than he should have. 

He opens the texts from Yennefer first.

There’s a few from earlier in the morning. 

9:30am:  _ I made breakfast & left u paracetamol on the counter. Reheat & take them when u need it. _

9:45am:  _ wake the f up. I’m bored, hungover and require attention.  _

__

10am:  _ WAKE UP ! Ur so boring & ur netflix list is shit  _

10:14am:  _ Istredd wants to meet me for lunch to “apologise”. AGAIN. Text me when ur awake. Luv u x _

10:14am:  _ i posted the key thru the letterbox for u. x _

Jaskier smiles as he reads the texts and quickly sends her one back.

11:42am:  _ i hate tequila. Thnx for bfast. Going to try it now. I don't even remember getting home or going to bed. Have fun with Is. dont be 2 hard on him. Luv u too x _

Jaskier whimpers, trying to move himself out of bed. His mouth feels like cotton, and he needs something to wash the lingering taste of tequila and kebab sauce away.

Plus, Yennefer always makes something delicious for breakfast when they have nights like this. 

After a few minutes of deliberation, Jaskier shuffles his way to the end of the bed and manages to put his feet on the floor.  _ Progress _ . He drops his head into his hands to rub his temples, trying to ease the pain, but it does nothing. 

When Jaskier stands, he has to lean his hand against the bedside table to steady himself. He grabs his dressing gown and throws it around his shoulders. He’s chilly even though he’s still, disgustingly, in his clothes from the night before. 

The kitchen looks like Yennefer hadn’t even been there, all of the plates cleaned, dried and put away. The only tell-tale sign is the blister of paracetamol and a plate of stacked homemade pancakes neatly wrapped up in cellophane on the breakfast bar. 

Jaskier’s mouth waters as he shuffles toward them. He puts them in the microwave to make them a little warmer and downs two paracetamol with an entire glass of water. 

His phone pings in his pocket with another text message from Yennefer.

12:07pm:  _ here’s something a little different to get u off. I took heed of our convo last nite. s’not karl urban but it’s somethin. u dirty, dirty boi ;) x _

There’s a link attached to a website called  _ Wild Hunt _ . It’s a fantasy website and sex line. Jaskier wonders why she would send him– and then it clicks.

He’d told her the night before, between a mouthful of donner meat, that he just wants a gentleman with a really nice, sexy voice  _ like Karl Urban _ to whisper dirty things to him until he gets off. Jaskier’s face burns with embarrassment, he’d never told anyone about this particular kink.

Jaskier managed to keep his obsession with voices quiet his entire teenage and adult life until now, stupid tequila and his stupid big mouth. Jaskier can’t even recall where this conversation took place, his flat or the back of the taxi… 

Shit. 

She’s never going to let him live this down ever.

Jaskier must have told her about his second sexual awakening during the first Star Trek remake too.

He drops his head into his hands, leaning his elbows against the countertop. He ruffles his hair, trying to figure out a way to make this look like a joke. 

Another ping of a text.

12:09pm:  _ ive known u long enough for this not to be embarrassing for u. Grow up and have some fun with it jas. x _

With that, Jaskier has to actually lift his head and look around his kitchen to make sure Yennefer’s not actually here, watching him suffer - because usually, this is one of her favourite past times. 

12:10pm:  _ ugh stop. never speak of this or k urbz again. i was drunk!!! TEQUILA DRUNK! we don’t know him. _

She doesn’t reply after that and Jaskier reckons she’s met up with Istredd.

Suddenly his stomach rumbles and he remembers his pancakes. They’re cold again by the time he gets them out of the microwave. Jaskier’s past caring at this point, he just wants something to eat, so he shakes some sugar and cinnamon over them. 

He settles himself down onto the couch, opening up his phone to look at the website again. The theme is quite dark, littered with lots of weird symbols and awkward writing. 

Finally, he sees a link for “meet our fantasists”. He presses on it, shoving a piece of pancake into his mouth. The page fills with different names and descriptions of the operators, Jaskier is immediately drawn to the description of the character called  _ Witcher _ . 

_ “If you’re brave enough to let Witcher’s deep, sensual voice take you on a wild adventure in uncovering your innermost fantasies, give him a call on 07101 54369.” _

Jaskier snorts, of course. Sixty nine. He closes the window, chucking his phone onto the couch cushions. 

It’s a terrible idea, anyway, getting involved with that stuff. All it’ll do is get his rocks off for a few minutes and rack up an alarmingly high phone bill, nothing worth the hassle. He chews harshly on a piece of pancake. 

Sometimes, it bothers Jaskier, just a little, that he’s not got someone. Yennefer has Istredd, more times than not and Jaskier’s got… well, no one. A list of ex-boyfriends longer than his arm. 

Finishing his pancakes and setting the plate on the coffee table, he squashes down his feelings. Squeezing his eyes shut, he scrubs his face with his hands, murmuring for himself to pull it together. 

Jaskier throws himself into a horizontal position, distracting himself with turning on Netflix before he does something stupid like have a hangover cry. 

Tequila and hangovers make him emotional, it’s not his fault.

It’s definitely Yennefer’s.

After a while of totally ignoring Netflix to read his Twitter feed, a few people tweeted him to say they enjoyed his show last night. 

Jaskier decides to open up PornHub. He searches for  _ Wild Hunt _ and a few videos come up, but nothing that takes his fancy. 

He changes his search to  _ Wild Hunt Witcher _ and more comes up. Going by their thumbnails, they’re all medieval themed. That’s never really done it for Jaskier before, but there’s a flicker of arousal tingling down his spine.

Okay, tequila and hangovers make him horny  _ and _ emotional. It’s still Yennefer’s fault. 

Jaskier slips out of his dressing gown and shimmy’s off his jeans from the night before, chucking them to the floor and settling himself back against the armrest. 

He clicks on one of the videos, it’s a guy, obviously. He’s blonde, gorgeous and he makes Jaskier’s heart stutter, his cock’s already starting to harden in his boxers. 

The video starts with a boy, he can’t be much older than twenty two, is sitting on the edge of the large, four poster bed caged in with wooden frames. He's wearing a dark green tunic that rests middle thigh, it’s skimpy and revealing.

“Hmm.” A low, gravelly voice comes from behind the camera. Jaskier jumps as another twang of arousal hits him. “You want to pleasure yourself, boy?”

The boy nods, blonde locks falling into his eyes as he looks shyly into the camera. “Yes, Witcher.”

And oh, oh fuck. If this is the  _ Witcher _ who’s advertised on the phone lines, Jaskier might actually call  _ Wild Hunt _ . 

The other man, Witcher, grunts off screen, pulling Jaskier from his daze. “Get on with it then boy, we don’t have all day.”

The blonde boy’s eyes flutter into the camera and shifts backward a little, pulling up the hem of his tunic up. He smirks, spreading his legs and letting the camera see the length of his hardening cock. 

“Go on, touch yourself.” Witcher prompts. “Stop playing shy, we both know you’re not.”

Jaskier whimpers, reaching down to palm his cock. It’s now almost fully hard. He starts to imagine what it would be like to have a heavy weight on top of him, breathing hard in his ear as he ruts his hips into his hand, wishing it was a hard body instead.

“Mmm,” the voice behind the camera hums and Jaskier’s cock twitches. “Good boy.”

“Please… Please.” The boy’s breathing is uneven, hand slipping down to trail his fingers over his hardened length. “Please, Witcher…”

The boy moans, high and breathy, begging for more instructions. “Can I move faster?”

Jaskier slips his hand into his underwear, thumbing over the head and biting his lip. He puts his phone on his stomach so he can jerk his dick in time with the boy in the video. Jaskier moans lowly, hips twitching upward in time with his hand movements. 

“You’re doing well, boy.” Witcher says and Jaskier flutters at the praise. “Stay that way for now.”

The boy whimpers but keeps his steady pace, with Jaskier following  _ Witcher’s _ instructions too.

After another few moments the slow pace is far too much but not nearly enough. He’s teasing himself, loosely and  _ slowly _ jerking the head of his cock.

Jaskier’s pearling pre-cum from the tip, he smears it down his length and bites his lip. This is  _ too good _ .

“Please – Please, Witcher… I need more.” The boy whines. “This isn’t enough.”

“Hmm.” Witcher hums, the noise rumbling through Jaskier’s body and his dick pulses in his hand. “Show me how much you  _ want _ it. And I’ll  _ consider _ .”

“I want it…” Jaskier whispers as he speeds his movements up just a little. “Please… _ more _ .”

The boy in the video speeds up his movements too and it does not bode well with Witcher. He growls and Jaskier spurts a few more drops of pre-cum, turning his head and moaning into the cushion, as if to silence himself.

“I never said you could do that.” Witcher rumbles, there’s a squeak of a chair behind the camera and Jaskier’s eyes snap to the screen.

He groans, hoping to see even a peak of the Witcher behind the camera. There’s a muscular body on screen, no face just everything from the elbows down. Jaskier watches in awe, cock throbbing as he jerks slower.

“Get into position.” Witcher commands and it sends a jolt of arousal through Jaskier.

The boy hikes up the tunic and leans over onto his elbows and presents his ass to Witcher.

Jaskier’s mouth waters at the possibility of what’s going to happen next.

“I’m – I’m sorry – Witcher…” The boy stutters and then there’s a paw with thick fingers in his hair, pulling it up so Witcher can growl in his ear.

“I’m going to have to punish you now.” Witcher grunts, letting the boy’s hair go and shoving him back to the mattress. “For being insolent.”

The boy whimpers, jutting his ass out. “Please… I’m – I’m sorry…”

Witcher slides a hand to the back of his neck, pinning him in place as he strikes his hand down onto his ass cheek.

Jaskier and the boy whimper together.

This is easily the hottest thing Jaskier's ever seen and he can’t even see most of Witcher, only a pair of black leather-esque, high waisted trousers and a matching shirt tucked into them.

There’s another smack and the boy yelps, whole body jerking. He’s only had two smacks and there’s already a large, pretty pink handprint on his ass.

Jaskier speeds up his jerking, gasping and panting, turning into the cushions again.

He’s  _ so  _ close he could cry.

Just a little bit more and he’s  _ there _ , he whines, high and undignified. Jaskier slips his free hand up to flick a thumb over his nipple, and  _ oh _ . That feels good. He repeats the motion, rocking up into his hand.

A familiar tightness curls in his abdomen, and he’s definitely not going to last if he keeps teasing himself like this.

He cums with a silent cry a few moments later, his entire body going rigid as he rides it out.

As Jaskier comes down, a thought flushes over him.

Yennefer can  _ never _ know about this. It would give her too much satisfaction.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you sweetesthoney for beta-ing! 
> 
> and also i'm still laughing my ass off at whoever thought geralt was going to be the kebab guy

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! Thank you to my favourite anonymous beta. I love her and appreciate her. ❤️
> 
> Also, Bork... I hope you enjoy this too, lol!


End file.
